


Stakeholder

by w_anderingheart



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Violence, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w_anderingheart/pseuds/w_anderingheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun's latest assignment: kidnap the son of the nation's multi-million conglomerate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stakeholder

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the bottomsehun fic exchange! Original post date: 2015/09/18.

Sehun opens his eyes when the earpiece crackles to life. He isn’t sure if he had been sleeping or if his conscious mind had simply gone blank with boredom. He’s never been good with waiting. But the sun has gone down now, so he rolls the ache out of his neck and sits up.

An absent-minded check, more out of habit than anything else, has him running his hands around his waist and pockets. He checks for his handgun, silencer already attached, tucked at his back behind his cotton shirt. Yixing is saying stuff. Sehun pretends to listen to the crisp instructions in his ear, tapping a finger against the steering wheel.

It’s humid when he steps out of the car, a sticky night time heat that makes him roll the sleeves up on his shirt. “Status?” comes Yixing’s voice from the earpiece. Sehun studies the elaborate iron-wrought gates one more time, before walking past them to find a side entrance. There are three surveillance cameras rotating in a fairly novice pattern. Sehun walks up the curb and tucks himself into a blind spot.

“Status?” Yixing’s voice turns sharp.

“Heading in. I’ll have him in twenty minutes,” Sehun says, then he rips the earpiece out and stuffs it into his back pocket.

Scaling up a lowered section of gate is easy. He steadies himself then throws his legs over the top. He lands easily on the ground, smacking dust off his pants. The estate gardens are pretty and well-groomed. He finds himself between two sculpted shrubs, navigating around them as he spots three guards at the front door that are embarrassingly easy to avoid. A side window on the first floor is open to let in a draft and Sehun peers in through the space between the billowing curtains.

A group of men are congregated in a living room, formally arranged for what could be a business meeting. Ten total, four armed security guards. Sehun unsheathes his gun from under his shirt and vaults into the window, one hand holding his weight on the windowsill as he kicks his legs in.

Three armed men step forward when they catch sight of him and Sehun fires at them in tandem, dodging a punch from another man at his side. They fall like dominoes as Sehun makes his way through the room, silent bullets snapping heads back quietly and efficiently. He steps out into a lobby area where a double staircase snakes up into an upper floor.

The house is quiet. His shoes are clicking against the marble floors so he softens his steps, climbing up the left staircase, as he tucks his gun back into its place. A maid passes him on her way down, but only offers a small smile and a bow. She must think he’s a guest, the Do Company sees a multitude of people day in and day out, so Sehun returns the smile and straightens his posture. There’s blood on the sleeve of his shirt but this goes unnoticed as she blushes and scurries on by.

The upper chambers are simply laid out. At the end of the hall, two white double doors stand imposingly with gold trim and matching doorknobs. Master bedroom. Sehun turns in the opposite direction.

He finds a matching set of doors on the other end, less elaborate and slightly ajar. He holds his breath. A dim light peeks through the open crack. Sehun places a tentative hand on the knob, pushing gently. The door creaks.

“Lee?”

Sehun pauses, measuring the air. The voice sounds low and scratchy, out-of-use.

“Is that you, Butler Lee?”

Sehun keeps his gun tucked away and opens the door just enough to slip through the crack of dim light. Inside, the room is large and tidy. There is only a single light coming from a study table lamp at the far end where a pair of narrow shoulders sit hunched over. The table faces a closed floor-to-ceiling window that opens up into a balcony.

“I already said I wasn’t hungry—“

Do Kyungsoo turns around in his chair. He is dressed entirely in soft black, loose-fitting clothes meant for sleep. When he blinks up at Sehun, his large eyes widen even further and Sehun, for a moment, gets lost in the reflection of himself in Kyungsoo’s black, black pupils. The desk lamp creates a strange, dull halo around Kyungsoo’s small figure.

“Who are you and why are your muddy-ass shoes in my room?”

Sehun stares at him blankly. The voice that had just sounded so quiet and subdued, feels like it’s suddenly been dipped in acid and nips at Sehun’s skin with nothing but bite. Sehun presses two fingers into his temple and tries to rub away the distant pounding of an oncoming headache.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Sehun murmurs lazily, stepping forward in large strides across the room. He grabs a silk scarf off a peg near the dresser drawers and lurches forward before Kyungsoo has time to register what is happening.

Kyungsoo squirms—squirms like a dying worm that’s been lit on fire. Sehun has seen more than his fair share of struggling victims, and he’s tackled two hundred pound men to the ground while whistling cartoon showtunes. But Kyungsoo is a different story entirely. He tries to wriggle out of Sehun’s arms with all the vigour of an angry child on a sugar rush.

Sehun feels a sharp pain blossom in his abdomen. “Fuck,” he hisses. Kyungsoo’s bony elbow digs its way through Sehun’s skin, and Sehun grits his teeth. He tackles Kyungsoo into the satin bedsheets, then pulls Kyungsoo’s arms back, tying them in place with the silk scarf.

“Don’t bark,” Sehun orders breathlessly, wagging his finger. He wipes the sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then rubs his fingerprints off the doorknob. He shuts the door when he re-enters the room and Kyungsoo is still heaving on the bed, writhing about furiously.

“RAPIST,” he yells, at the top of his lungs. “HELP! RAPE—fuck—fucking—what the fuck.”

Sehun slips another silk scarf off the peg and ties it around Kyungsoo’s mouth in a shitty attempt at a gag. Kyungsoo makes a frustrated noise, something between a scream and a grunt. Sehun almost wonders if Kyungsoo is going to bite him.

“I said no barking,” Sehun tugs at the scarf in Kyungsoo’s mouth, “I’ll take this off if you agree to be quiet.” Kyungsoo is lying face-down on the bed, Sehun straddling his legs to keep him in place.

Kyungsoo replies with something that sounds like fuck you.

There is definitely a headache blooming as Sehun swipes tiredly at his face with both hands. He rolls his hips in frustration.

“Will you be quiet?” Sehun repeats, trying to sound authoritative but it just comes out fatigued.

There is a short pause. Kyungsoo’s breathing freezes for a second, before resuming. Then, instead of a whine, Kyungsoo makes a short, grunting noise so Sehun pulls the gag off reluctantly, muscles tensed as he waits for Kyungsoo to retaliate. But aside from a frustrated huff, Kyungsoo doesn’t move.

“All right, let’s get out of here, then.” Sehun crawls off of Kyungsoo’s legs. He studies Kyungsoo’s black-clad figure against the satin bedsheets for a moment, his thin body sprawled out among the crumpled linen. Sehun’s throat is a little dry as he pulls Kyungsoo to his feet. He keeps the scarf around Kyungsoo’s wrists because he doesn’t trust him at all to stay put. With a hand on his forearm, Sehun pushes Kyungsoo forward towards the door.

“I’m armed. You run, I shoot,” Sehun tells him as he swipes a tissue from a tissue box off the bed side table. He smooths it out against his hand, covering his prints, as he pulls the door open, then stuffs the tissue into his pocket.

“Do you think you’re slick or something?” Kyungsoo says dryly. Sehun dislikes his tone. It’s assuming and petulant, but laced with a large serving of boredom, as if every time he speaks, it’s an arduous, unnecessary effort on his part. “I’m the heir to a conglomerate. I get kidnapped all the time.”

They’re making their way through the corridors, shuffling down the staircase. Sehun prods Kyungsoo in front of him to go faster. It won’t be long before the dead bodies are found. “I highly doubt that,” Sehun replies lowly. “You would have had better reflexes. And you would have called for help the minute you saw a stranger in your room.”

They slip past a servant in the lobby and Sehun tugs him towards an open back door. Kyungsoo turns his head as they walk out into the gardens. He gives Sehun a tilted, curious expression, and then there’s the slightest lift of his lips when he speaks. Sehun doesn’t like it. He can’t read smiles. Kyungsoo’s tone dips, and suddenly it sounds less whiny and more calculated.

“What if I thought you were cute?”

His profile is dimly lit in the darkness. Pale white skin against black.

The alarm goes off. It rings shrilly, and cuts through the air. Kyungsoo purses his lips, giving Sehun a lazy, knowing look. “You’re so going to jail. I’m pretty famous, you know. People will, well, notice my absence,” Kyungsoo says, but Sehun isn’t listening to him anymore.

He checks his wristwatch. It took him over twenty minutes to get in and out of the house, a pretty fucking terrible amount of time by Sehun’s standards. His migraine is absolutely splitting.

There’s no way Sehun is going to coerce Kyungsoo into climbing the gate, so he tugs him by the arm and sprints off towards the entrance. The three guards on duty study them with bemused expressions, before seeing the scarf binding Kyungsoo’s wrists. Sehun pulls his gun out in one fluid move, and hits them cleanly with the butt of the weapon, a hollow blow to the skull.

Out on the street curb, he feels his fatigue catch up with him. He fumbles with his car keys, as Kyungsoo eyes the vehicle with a judging curl at his mouth.

“Don’t you get paid more or something? At least buy yourself, like, a Maserati or something,” he clicks his tongue, leaning his back against the hood. “Man, I could use a shower right now. You’ll take me to a place with a nice, cold shower, won’t you?”

Kyungsoo bats his eyelashes, entirely teasing. The sticky nighttime air has Sehun’s breath clogging up in his throat.

Sehun coughs. “Just get in the car, Do.”

The doors unlock and Kyungsoo walks patiently to the passenger side.

“Aye, aye, captain,” he says, then clears his throat like a proper prince. “Be a lad and open my door for me.”

Sehun stares at him with a bubbling sort of anger, before Kyungsoo turns on his side a bit and shakes his bound wrists pointedly. The alarm system from the estate house rings on and Kyungsoo taps his foot, a fiery look in his black eyes.

-

They drive for two hours, mostly in silence. Kyungsoo falls asleep almost immediately, head lolling forward until he finds a comfortable position, resting it in a spot between the window and the headrest. Sehun exits the highway, reaching a row of small apartments in a secluded neighbourhood at the edge of a small town.

When Sehun kills the engine, Kyungsoo wakes. He blinks his eyes a little in the dark, disoriented, as if he’d forgotten himself. He looks over at Sehun in the driver’s seat, who is sliding his gun under his shirt again, and Kyungsoo sighs quietly under his breath.

His hands are still tied, and now his arms have cramped up and fallen asleep through the drive. Sehun watches Kyungsoo’s tired squirming before mumbling some discontent noise, as he reaches across the gearshift and unbuckles Kyungsoo’s belt for him.

“I’ll untie you under one condition,” Sehun says.

Despite the hour, Kyungsoo lifts a playful eyebrow. “Untie me? That’s kinky.” His voice has gone scratchy from sleep, low and quiet in the silence of the car. A tingling sensation bubbles up in Sehun’s fingertips. He clenches his fists and then exits the car. He lets Kyungsoo out and they walk, half-blindly, to the door of an apartment.

Sehun gropes for the key among all the other ones in his keychain, and inserts one at random. The lock clicks open graciously.

The air inside is heavy, and dry, but cleaner than Sehun expects it to be. They pull their shoes off and he sees Kyungsoo’s nose scrunch up in distaste. The apartment is small and cramped, and has the distinct scent of mugginess, as if it’s been raining indoors.

There is one table with two chairs, and a tiny kitchen set—stove, oven, mini-fridge and a microwave that Sehun is sure doesn’t work. An opening leads to one bedroom with no door. There used to be a door but Sehun kicked it down once during an attempted escape and of course, it was never fixed.

Kyungsoo looks blindingly out of place as Sehun shuffles him into the bedroom. He touches Kyungsoo’s forearms with slight force. “Remember. You run, I shoot,” Sehun says as he pulls the knot of the scarf loose. Kyungsoo rubs at his wrists, the skin turned raw red.

“So is this where you torture me?” He seats himself on the edge of the mattress, bouncing on the springs experimentally. It’s nothing like his satin sheets at home, which is exactly the sort of expression he makes when the bedsprings emit an audible, creaking noise. “It sure looks like a prison.”

“This is an EXO-M safe house,” Sehun says, heading out into the main area. On the kitchen table, he places down his gun, earpiece and the silk scarf. “Temporary lodging while I transport you.”

“Ah,” comes Kyungsoo’s voice from the bedroom. “So you bring all the victims here?”

Sehun pulls out a water bottle from the mini-fridge, gulping greedily to put moisture back in his mouth. “Every time it’s a long transport, yes. And we’ve still got several hours to go.” Sweat has thoroughly soaked his shirt and he curses Yixing under his breath when he sees the air condition still isn’t working. The blank thermostat screen stays stubbornly so as he pushes at the buttons in frustration. He pulls his shirt off, and wipes the sweat at his neck. There should be a fan in the closet.

He heads back into the bedroom. Kyungsoo is sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Hmm,” he says, “and here, I thought I was special.” He traces his index finger along the ratty bedsheets. “Shouldn’t I get like, premium kidnapping experience or something? Don’t you have five-star safe houses, maybe?”

Sehun stares at him with a burning exasperation, then pulls open the dusty closet. He hauls the fan out with a bit of effort and plugs it into the wall socket. It makes a broken chugging sound as it starts up.

“No, we don’t,” Sehun replies, taking a seat on the floor. He leans his head back, and runs fingers through his sweaty hair. Kyungsoo is staring at him intensely, black eyes that seem to be running up and down Sehun’s bare torso.

“Well, tell EXO-M to consider it,” Kyungsoo says, lips pursed. “Do Company will invest in premium housing for their kidnapping endeavours.”

Sehun laughs, in spite of himself—a short, sudden laugh that sort of shoots up his throat and dies in the air a moment later. “You’re fucking weird as fuck, you know that?”

Kyungsoo merely shrugs.

“First of all, you’re a whiny prince,” Sehun lifts his index finger, counting down his points like a list, “Second, how do you even know what EXO-M is? And lastly, I’m used to kidnapping all sorts of assholes but I’ve seen fully grown men who are usually snivelling messes at this point and here you are, still playing coy.”

The fan whirs on loudly, filling in the silence. Kyungsoo quirks an eyebrow, in one of his typical bored expressions. “I know a good amount about the criminal underworld, thank you very much,” he retorts. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and they don’t even reach the floor. “I know EXO-M is a scary, Chinese gang, at least.”

Sehun scoffs in dry amusement. He rises to his feet, and points through the open shell of what was once the doorway to the bedroom. “If you wanted to shower, the bathroom is on the other side of the hall,” he explains, opening the closet once more. He throws a towel at Kyungsoo and grabs one for himself. “Don’t try to like, drown yourself in the tub or something.”

He takes a shower first, rinsing grime and blood off his skin. There are spare shirts in the bedroom closet but he has to slip on the same pants, which has him cringing as he walks through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Kyungsoo is where he’d left him, expect now, Sehun finds him lying on his back, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling.

“Why do you let your victims shower if you’re just going to kill them?” Kyungsoo says blankly as Sehun pulls a shirt over his head.

Sehun licks his lips. “They aren’t my… victims. And I don’t kill them. I transport them.”

“To people who will kill us.”

Kyungsoo’s eyelashes are long and thick. They graze his cheeks as he blinks. Sehun runs his tongue along the roof his mouth, unaccustomed to so much conversation. “I don’t know what EXO-M wants with you and I don’t care,” he says.

Abruptly, Kyungsoo sits up. His black hair bounces against his forehead. “Tell me your name.”

Sehun snorts. “Fuck no.”

“You know mine,” Kyungsoo points out.

“Of course I know yours. The whole country knows yours.”

“Yeah, but you must have a profile on me and everything. That’s hardly fair.”

Sehun fingers the tattered hem of his shirt, pinching a loose thread. “Are you going to shower or not?” he tries to sound snappy, but it comes out on an exhale, sounding instead like a parent scolding their kid after a long day at work. “Better yet, just roll over on the bed and sleep.”

“I think you’re younger than me,” Kyungsoo states suddenly. Sehun doesn’t understand how he does that—jumps from one thought to the next, without filter and without warning.

“Have you seen yourself?” Sehun retorts. “I have a full head and more on you.”

Kyungsoo stares down at his clean, coiffed nails. “Height is nothing. Your face looks young.”

Unconsciously, Sehun runs the palm of his hand along the smooth line of his jaw where a stray droplet of water clings to his skin. Kyungsoo is staring at him again, and his gaze feels heavy.

“So does yours,” says Sehun.

Kyungsoo quirks an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t retaliate. He plucks the towel off the bed as he stands, using just his thumb and index finger as if it’s much too dirty to hold any other way. Sehun shakes his head.

-

“That was the most disgusting bathroom I’ve ever been in.” Kyungsoo returns with his hair wet and a scowl on his lips. “That tub was not meant for sitting in.”

Sehun is sitting in front of the fan, drying his hair and trying to cool down. He stares at Kyungsoo unsympathetically. “Sorry it’s not the Ritz.”

“Why is the showerhead so complicated? Make it user-friendly, at least. Or, like, kidnap-victim friendly.” He plops down on the bed, wriggling his toes.

Sehun makes a face. “You don’t know how to turn a shower on?”

“My servants draw my bath for me,” replies Kyungsoo, so serenely that Sehun can’t tell if he is being teased or if it’s a genuine, innocent answer. There seems to be a constant pull at the corner of Kyungsoo’s thick lips, an amused curl that frankly, confuses the shit out of Sehun and Sehun would rather not spend time trying to figure it out.

“Please fucking sleep,” Sehun says resignedly. He stands up and punches the light switch off.

“You’re giving me the bed? Wow, chivalry isn’t dead.” Even in the dark, Sehun is picturing Kyungsoo’s smirk. He speaks with as much snob as one would expect from the son of a millionaire.

“I sleep by the entrance in case you get any ideas at night,” Sehun explains.

Kyungsoo sighs. “Well, this bed is a fucking rock anyways. I’m so getting back problems after this.” There is a faint shuffling noise as Kyungsoo pulls the blanket back. “Couldn’t you have kidnapped my butler along with me?”

“Oh my fuck. I need an Advil.” Sehun wasn’t cut out to play babysitter, and this assignment was getting ridiculous.

From the closet, he pulls out a wrinkled sleeping bag and unrolls it near the doorway. He lies on his back, one hand placed readily on his gun. The floor is dirty and hard but Sehun is accustomed to it. His spine is, at least. Discomfort registers for just a moment before he adjusts to the cool press of the hardwood against his back.

“How old are you?” Kyungsoo asks, after a short moment of silence.

“Holy shit, how do I get you to sleep?”

“Come on. Humour me just this once,” Kyungsoo repeats, with all his usual condescending insistence.

“It’s the least you can do before you kill me,” he adds, but his voice sounds strange this time. Quieter, maybe, though he could just be getting sleepy. Sehun can’t figure out why his chest feels so tight when he inhales. The air is dry and dusty. He really should talk to Yixing about the air conditioning.

Sehun recalls the profile Yixing had passed off to him, ‘Do Kyungsoo’ printed in small block letters across the front of the folder. The profile had been long and thorough on his biography, family and schooling—the Do Kyungsoo Wikipedia page, basically. No matter how thorough, though, nothing had prepared Sehun for this version of Kyungsoo, who had a rather jaded, expressionless air to him, as if the world revolving around him was simply a fact of the universe.

His tone makes Sehun feel like he is being made fun of to a joke he doesn’t understand.

The silence gets heavy, and Kyungsoo is still waiting for an answer. Sehun doesn’t know why he gives in. Or why the quiet, husky quality of Kyungsoo’s voice keeps ringing in his head alongside his pounding headache.

“1994.”

He expects Kyungsoo’s satisfied laugh, but sighs anyways when he hears the bedsheets shuffle and he can feel Kyungsoo rolling over on his stomach to stare at him in the dark.

“I have a full year on you! I knew it. I’m your hyung,” he exclaims.

Sehun pulls the safety lock on his gun so he doesn’t shoot anything by accident.

“So, what’s your name, my dongsaeng?” Kyungsoo prods, fully awake again as his low, playful voice dips mockingly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sehun half-mumbles, half-grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. He doesn’t know how or when he falls asleep, but only that Kyungsoo stops talking at some point. Sehun thinks Kyungsoo starts humming, but it could just be his dreams creeping up on him. Eventually, silence slips in through the empty spaces between consciousness and slumber.

-

It’s noon, at the peak of the day’s heat, when the car tire bursts open. Sehun has his hands on his hips, frowning deeply at the busted silver Hyundai, and contemplates his exact words for when he demands a pay raise from Yixing. At the safe house, Sehun, of course, had had to switch cars to play it safe but EXO-M was clearly not taking care of their resources.

Exactly where they are, Sehun doesn’t know but the seedy gas station they have stopped at has spare tires. There is only one employee behind the counter, flipping lazily through a three-year-old magazine, but he has a small television flipped on to the news and it doesn’t sit well in Sehun’s stomach.

He starts to make quick work of the tire. The heat isn’t helping his mood. He notices Kyungsoo has cracked open the passenger side window to let in some air, and he sticks his head out the open space to peer down at Sehun’s handiwork.

“Can I run in real quick and get some coffee?” he asks, in that manner of asking that Sehun always belatedly realizes is more of a whine. “I need at least a cup of coffee a day.”

“I don’t believe that. You have enough energy for the both of us.”

“Can I get some or not?” Kyungsoo says sharply, as if Sehun hasn’t handcuffed him to the car door.

“Uh, absolutely not.” Sehun kicks at the newly placed tire, experimentally. “The whole country is looking for you.”

Kyungsoo has leaned back in his seat, facing forward again. He seems to be watching the tiny television inside the gas station store. It’s playing commercials right now, but Sehun figures Do Kyungsoo’s absence has the leading headline on every news channel and he doesn’t want to stick around any longer. “You must be getting paid a lot for this stupid job,” says Kyungsoo. “My dad’s going to sue the shit out of you.”

Sehun raises a hand to his forehead, looking up at the sky as he shields his eyes from the sun. “You’re talking as if I’m not selling you to Asia’s most notorious gang,” he counters.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything after that, and by now, Sehun isn’t used to not getting a snarky remark in return. The air feels a bit stale for a moment.

“Besides, I can’t have you escaping,” Sehun adds, belatedly. His neck feels warm all of a sudden, and he decides it’s the desert heat.

“You know what would be nice?” Kyungsoo says, after several long minutes. “Padded handcuffs. You should invent that.”

Sehun kicks his feet into the dusty asphalt, studying Kyungsoo’s expression. It’s the same as it always is, contempt and bored. Sehun doesn’t know why he had been expecting to see anything else. He pulls a bit at the collar of his shirt, shaking his head as he goes into the store.

“You’re full of ideas, aren’t you, Do?” he says tiredly. But when he returns, there is a plastic cup of coffee in one hand and he passes it to Kyungsoo wordlessly as he slides into the driver’s seat. Sehun thinks Kyungsoo is smiling around the rim, but as Kyungsoo swallows the drink, his face is turned away, watching the hills blur past them through the window.

-

They approach the city around midnight. Sehun doesn’t have the key for another safe house, and he would rather not take his chances anywhere else.

“This is nice,” Kyungsoo comments flatly, as Sehun leads him inside a clean, simply-furnished apartment.

He is really going to ask Yixing for a raise.

“This is your place, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo spins around, peering over his shoulder as he throws Sehun a lighted smile. “That’s rather unprofessional, don’t you think?”

“If the damn tire didn’t bust itself, we wouldn’t have to stop another night,” Sehun mutters. Kyungsoo is still handcuffed, wrists bound at the front. Sehun grabs a beer from his fridge and pops the tab. Out in his living room, Kyungsoo is cross-legged on the couch.

He stares at himself blankly, eyeing his reflection in the black TV screen. He looks small, dark shadows enveloping his figure. It could just be because Sehun hasn’t turned any lights on. He tries not to think too hard about it, and takes a seat on the floor, back resting against the foot of the couch. He feels Kyungsoo shift.

“I don’t even want the company.” Kyungsoo’s words tickle the back of Sehun’s neck. “I suck at business. I’m not a people person.” He laughs softly. It sounds sad. “People like my money. That’s how it always is.”

His small hands slide down the length of Sehun’s arm. It’s an awkward movement, but Sehun still stops breathing. “And then there’s you. You don’t like me or my money, do you?” He reaches for the beer can. Sehun’s fingers have gone loose. Kyungsoo takes the can and sinks onto the floor beside him. Their thighs press up together. Kyungsoo’s cuffs clink.

“I hate it. These stupid mega-corporations.” He brings the beer to his mouth. Sehun watches his throat as he swallows. “They make life feel meaningless.”

Kyungsoo turns his head, eyes fluttering softly as he matches Sehun’s hard gaze. “Empty. I feel empty,” says Kyungsoo, lips parted, voice like liquid velvet. “That’s my sad secret.” He licks the beer away from the folds of his mouth. His breath is warm and disarming as it brushes Sehun’s cheek. “Not with you, though. You don’t make me feel empty at all.”

Sehun watches him swallow down the rest of the beer. Kyungsoo tucks his legs up, and leans his head on his knees. His lashes flutter. Sehun pulls the key from his pocket and unlocks the cuffs. Kyungsoo grins.

He is beautiful, even in the dark, painted only by faint moonlight and shadows. Sehun’s chest squeezes. Kyungsoo has shifted again, so that he’s on his knees, his hand pulling Sehun’s neck down.

“Kyung—“

Sehun breathes it more than he says it, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Kyungsoo pushes their lips together and licks the beer right off the roof of Sehun’s mouth, sliding a little across his teeth before Sehun pushes back. But Kyungsoo is all in control, biting Sehun’s lip as he pushes his back onto the hardwood, climbing on top of him.

“Touch me.”

Kyungsoo moves his kisses down into Sehun’s collarbones. “What did you say?”

Sehun sounds desperate. But Kyungsoo’s hand is starting to wander—closer, closer to where Sehun wants it to be. “Touch me,” he says again, louder, and Kyungsoo presses the heel of his palm over the bulge between Sehun’s legs.

Sehun gasps sharply. Kyungsoo catches his tongue as he does. He hums appreciatively when Sehun pushes himself into the heat of Kyungsoo’s hand, and the hum sends a hot trail through Sehun’s bloodstream, lighting a fire in its wake. He thinks he feels Kyungsoo smiling around their kisses, mouth pulling up at the corners every time they pull away for a short breath, and it makes Sehun want to kiss him harder.

The friction is intoxicating, even through the fabric. Kyungsoo replaces his hand with his own erection, straddling Sehun’s hips with his thighs. Breathless curses escape, thin and incoherent, as they rub against each other.

Kyungsoo’s lithe hands find their away under Sehun’s shirt and greedily, Sehun rids of them both their clothes. Finally, Kyungsoo grabs at the waistband of Sehun’s boxers and tugs them down his legs. The rush of realization is as cool as the air on Sehun’s bare skin.

“Kyungsoo—“

“Hm?” Kyungsoo says, licking his velvet voice onto Sehun’s skin as he runs his tongue into Sehun’s neck. “What is it, huh? You don’t want to--?”

“No, no. I—“ Kyungsoo bites the slope of skin between Sehun’s neck and shoulder, and Sehun whines. He takes a gulp of air, as if he’s drowning and starved for oxygen. “I think I want—“

Kyungsoo is tracing a finger along Sehun’s spine. Then, his hands are placed firmly on Sehun’s cheeks, squeezing as they pull them apart. For the shortest moment, Kyungsoo’s fingers are grazing Sehun’s tight hole, and Sehun shivers violently in response.

“Oh,” says Kyungsoo, pulling back slightly to study Sehun’s eyes—pupils blown. “I see.”

His smirk is back, flaring up the mischief at the corners of his lips again. “Do you have anything or do I just go in dry?” He stands up as he takes off his own underwear, staring down at Sehun with his head tilted to the side. Sehun exhales shakily. Naked on the floor with Do Kyungsoo towering over him, it’s as if reality has slipped through Sehun’s fingers as quickly and easily as sand.

There isn’t any time to rationalize it when Kyungsoo is back on his knees, crawling towards him.

“Under the coffee table,” Sehun says.

Kyungsoo gropes in the dark for the bottle. Sehun hears the cap pop open.

“Want me to stretch you myself?” Kyungsoo asks him, his large eyes blinking playfully.

Sehun doesn’t trust himself to speak. He nods once and Kyungsoo pushes him onto the ground, spreading his knees.

The press of his fingers is sharp. Sehun’s legs jerk in pain and pleasure as Kyungsoo waits for the ring of muscle to open up. Sehun is already panting. He’s never been on the other end of this before.

When Kyungsoo leans down to kiss him through it, Sehun decides he likes it strangely. He bites down on Kyungsoo’s lip, hips rutting desperately. Kyungsoo’s gaze is dark and heavy.

“You’re like a virgin,” Kyungsoo whispers, retracting his fingers. “How cute.”

He pushes his cock in with care, stroking Sehun’s hair out of his forehead. Then he lowers himself down to catch the long moan ripping through Sehun’s throat. Kyungsoo keeps whispering lewd things against their mouths. Sehun doesn’t even process most of them, but they’re going straight to his dick. He cups Kyungsoo’s ass cheeks in his hands and Kyungsoo grunts harder with every thrust.

“You’ve never been fucked before, have you?” Kyungsoo says. It isn’t a question. Sehun’s thighs are trembling.

“Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, fuck--“

Kyungsoo’s mouth brushes his ear again. “Louder.”

“Fuck, please,” Sehun gasps.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me harder.”

Kyungsoo pulls back and shoves Sehun’s hips closer. His pace doubles. Sehun’s heart flies into his throat as Kyungsoo starts stroking Sehun’s dick, curving dark against his stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, Kyungsoo.” Sehun grabs at Kyungsoo’s arms to pull him down. Kyungsoo licks along the open folds of Sehun’s mouth, exhaling a single word into Sehun’s desperate moans.

They fall apart on each other’s lips, clutching hair and skin, breathing shared breaths.

After a long time, Kyungsoo allows himself to curl into Sehun’s side. Their skin touches, but just barely as Kyungsoo rests his head on Sehun’s shoulder. Very softly he says, “I have another secret.”

Sehun swallows. He can feel Kyungsoo’s heartbeat against his arm.

“I sort of wish you weren’t going to kill me.”

He says it steadily in the charged air, and pulls out of Sehun’s touch a moment later. “Kyungsoo, I—“

“I know,” Kyungsoo says, pulling his pants off. “You do your job. I do mine.” He wipes the drying come off the inside of his thigh.

They both fall asleep on the floor.

-

They wake up again in the middle of the night, their spines aching, curled in each other’s heat. They try to sleep again but they can’t. Sehun pours them each a glass of water, and they sip it in the dark silence.

“Sehun.”

Kyungsoo sets his cup down on the floor beside him. He rubs his eyes with his knuckle. “What?” he says.

“My name is Sehun.”

Kyungsoo is quiet. Sehun knows it’s all meaningless now but he says it anyways. Kyungsoo makes a small noise, a short, dry chuckle, but just barely that.

“Okay. Sehun-ah.”

He watches Kyungsoo’s mouth form his name. The purse of his lips, the curl of his tongue. Sehun can still taste him, a thick lingering that clings to the back of his throat.


End file.
